


Noir

by Kloue



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood and Violence, Bottom Eren Yeager, Domestic Violence, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Gang Violence, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gun Violence, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) Has Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Panic Attacks, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Unknown Disorders, don't read if you're squeamish with blood/guns/gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-15 00:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kloue/pseuds/Kloue
Summary: Levi is a heartless, coldblooded drug dealer who reigns jurisdiction over his home town’s narcotics. His city lives in black and white, controlled by the hands of Grey.Traveling in a broken-down gray coupé is Eren Jaeger, a teal-eyed male skirting through busy towns and committing robbery to take care of his seven-year-old daughter.Just so happens Eren picks the wrong store, or the wrong city, to steal some cash from.





	1. Eucalyptus

**Author's Note:**

> sooo I really should not be uploading another story when I'm not even finished with TNF, but I couldn't help myself. This story is a completely new kind of genre to me, considering I usually write AU's in universes I'm familiar with. But writing is all about getting out of your comfort zone, right?
> 
> As a fair warning, this story's Levi is just as I said - heartless. He is the essence of someone who has learned to neglect all emotions for survival's sake. He is a complete asshole and mentally/emotionally deficient. He also has deeply rooted anger problems, which will probably be evident as you read. So please be patient with his character! I do not plan on making him all peaches and cream.
> 
> Also, violence. It's in the tags. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

On Saturday, work gets busier than any other weekday. I go through about twelve plastic gloves, just to make sure I’m not contaminating anything, and the tireless workers in and out are distracting. One worker is a plain naked woman with vanilla mocha skin and tightened hair in a bun. Her hips are wide, which she uses to her advantage as she hauls a bulky load of product into my main room. She leaves with a sultry smile, a wink, and struts her naked body back into the other room.

The other is a guy. He is more reserved, as it is obvious he is here for his pay and only that. He decides to wear thin undergarments during work hours, but he knows he has to get checked before he leaves. But I guess in his eyes, it is better than strolling around with his dick and balls out.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter who brings me the produce. As long as I’m the one sealing, spraying, and packaging it all into a less skeptical product, then the day has gone well.

I finish up the last of the packaging and place it back into the pale gray paper box, making sure to glue the container closed and labeling it with a specific logo. Pulling my pale face mask down, I nonchalantly grab some disinfectant wipes from under my table and start to wipe the rather ashy countertop from the product. As I do, I hear the increase of footsteps my way.

“Oh, Mr. Grey, I see the holiday does not stop you, hmm?” Appearing out of woodworks is Hanji Zoe, aka _Goggles_ , a former co-worker of mine. Hanji slams their fingers together in excitement when they see the packaged substance on the wooden table. “Are our customers getting double for Christmas, or is it just the regular degular deal?”

“You know I don’t give discounts,” I mutter as I finish cleaning up the table. Hanji lets out a distinct groan at my greediness and crosses their arms stubbornly. “And you know the rules of the house. What made you think you could prance around clothed?”

“Aww, but I thought I was excused of that rule by now! Don’t be such a sour puss! I know you want to see my perfect body and all, but I keep telling you, all you have to do is ask –“

“Can’t you see I’m tired?” Slamming my napkin on the table was less convincing. Hanji only chuckles and clasp their hands together giddily.

“I hear it is a special someone’s birthday, soooo –“ They pull out a rather large package of tea. Squinting my eyes, I shake my head at them and clutch the thick box in curiosity. Hanji giggles discretely and cocks their hip. “It’s Earl Grey, duh. The real kind, since I hear some stores are running out of stock. You been stealing boxes lately?” Hanji tuts with their lip. I scoff at them and lift myself out of my chair. As I do, I begin to pack away the product in an onyx crate.

“Some dumbass kid was giving away free produce. Took care of it, but he still ended up wasting a lot of my fuckin’ money.” With a brutal away of my head, I slam another container down in the crate and cross my arms stubbornly. “Now I have to resort to using these stupid off brand fuckin’ containers. Trust me, I don’t like doing this shit.” Hanji ends up laughing like the chicken shit they are. Rolling my eyes once more, I turn around and cross my arms as I look at them. “Is this all you are here for?”

“Well, yes, and also the house on Michigan needs restocking!”

“Why didn’t you say so, four-eyes?” I point to the crate next to me discretely. “Take the fresh one. I’ll collect from them tomorrow to give them time to restock.”

“Oh, ho, ho, ho – how kind!” Hanji snaps their fingers and suddenly another person appears in the room quickly. I recognize him as Hanji’s boyfriend, Moblit, and begin to dig my fingernails on my arms in annoyance. I grab him by his thick collar and jerk him towards me. His eyes are wide, as he is not used to receiving such direct attention from me. I curl my fist around his shirt and murmur to him in irritation.

“Next time you show up to my house, clothes are off. I don’t give a fuck if you have two different sized dicks and one mini ball flying out, there are no cover-ups. You understand?” Moblit nods his head quickly in understanding. I can see Hanji look a bit frazzled, obviously not used to me being so straightforward. I push him down to the floor and grab my bag off. Scowling, I nod my head at Hanji as I begin walking out the room. “That goes for you too. I’m leaving, so make sure the door is locked when you exit.”

Before I can receive any type of response, I slam the door closed and walk past a dining table full of workers. Their backs straighten when they see me, posture perfect and hands fiddling much quicker. They frequently glance at me, trying to decipher my mood or my next course of action. Lucky for them, I have places to be, so I don’t have time to reprimand people on how to measure a fucking ounce.

The door to the house slams behind me. Looking to my right, I nod my head at the male outside. He responds accordingly and wishes me a good day. What a suck up.

Thirty-six thousand dollars. Thirty-fucking-six thousand dollars that kid wasted. I squint my eyes in disdain and tut my lips. With all the anger building up, I wish I could go back a couple of hours ago and beat his fucking ass to death instead. Sure, a silencer is more efficient, but when it comes to cash – there is nothing that makes me more grotesque. Clenching my fist, I shake my head and try to rid myself of the brutal thoughts.

Ten minutes later and I am walking up to the doors of a familiar convenience store. My fingers pull at the silver handle and the small bell rings. One of the workers looks up from checking out a customer and gives a forced smile. I ignore it and stroll through the store. The floor is pretty immaculate, free from gum stains or dust. I hum in satisfaction and gaze over the aisles in suspicion. Once I make it halfway through the store, I meet eye to eye with the cashier. Sweat travels down his face and I can see him quivering slightly.

“Good afternoon, sir. Another run?” He chuckles nervously. “This is your fifth time this week.” I dig my hand in my jean pockets and continue toward the other aisle slowly.

“You recall that one of my workers sold here.” I scoff. “Well, as he made it seem. Turns out he was giving away free product. But –“ I pause in walking, “- I guess that is my fault for taking in a fuckin’ brat.” The cashier ceases in shaking and visibly swallows the lump in his throat. I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head toward him. “Did you know he was giving out free merchandise? I realize you are just a playing piece in this store, but if I find out you were aware he was doing this, you’ll be in just as much trouble.” The cashier shakes his head quickly and raises his hands in defense.

“I swear, I didn’t!” He tries to give a smile, but when he sees I’m not even looking at him, his fear bubbles up even quicker. “Please, _Grey_ , I would never. I’ve been runnin’ this store real well. Besides, what would I get out of it? I’d be losin’ profit too, you know this!” I sigh loudly and take my hands out of my pocket.

“You are off the list for a week –“

“Grey, please!” His voice quivers. “You know what’ll happen, _please_. I’ve just been able to afford a house, I need this store!” I roll my eyes and walk down the aisle, away from his voice. I pass by the tea aisle. Boxes and boxes of tea is trapped behind a plastic cover, which will go off with the slightest bit of tampering. I pull out a pair of keys from my pocket and insert it into the keyhole. The plastic cover is released. I immediately grab a box. I gaze over at it, analyzing the tea’s packaging, and walk over to the cashier’s counter.

The box is placed carefully onto the counter. The cashier gazes at it with curiosity, but also a hidden depth of fear. I turn the box to the side and point to my dignified logo, consisting of two ivory wings. The cashier closes their eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “This is my product, right? Has the sticker…” I tut my lips and open the box. The fragrance of eucalyptus hits my nose. “Smells like my product.” I grab a tea bag and analyze the paper. “Looks like it too.”

“It is _yours_ , sir. I swear of it. I would never tamper.” I smirk slightly, but let it diminish quickly. I open the tea bag and gaze at the powder that would seemingly look like mine. My fingers dig open the net consciously. The light powder splashes onto the counter, faintly smelling of everything _but_ what I make. I hum and finger the powder, getting a feeling of its weight and touch under my fingertips. When I retract my finger, the cashier is looking at me with a grim smile. “See? I told you, I would nev –“

Before he can finish, I grab him by his white shirt and drag him over the counter. Though he is heavy to drag, the fall onto the ground is a solid one. As he tries to get up with surprise and shock in his eyes, I ready my feet and kick him in his abdomen. He screams in pain and tries his best to crawl away from me. I don’t let him. My fingers grip his thin hair and I slam his head onto the pristine floor, smearing liquid blood and drool.

“Are you trying to make me out as a _fool_?” I press his face even harder into the floor, hoping maybe I could block his breathing and kill him right then and there. He tries to yell for mercy, as they all do, but the minute I pull out the gun attached to my ankle, he knows it’s over. He begins to cry and whimper at the agony. I press the metallic device to his back, digging it so hard he would probably have a nagging bruise when he dies. “You replace my product with baby powder? Not only that, but you forge my fucking brand? You are looking to fuckin’ die, don’t even start.”

“Please, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ , I had to make up for the lost money! Please, Grey, I’m so sorry!” His voice is cracking under pressure. I scoff and take the gun away from his back. He breathes a sigh of relief for a second, thinking I would leave and actually show him mercy. “I promise, I will make it up to you. I’ll double the sales. Just don’t kill me. I promise you.”

“Fine.” I gaze around the store and eventually look outside. I see a line of old women standing, waiting to be able to gain access to the store. I grab him by his thick neck and pull him into a sitting position. “Your customers saved you. Get the fuck up.” He hurriedly jumps off the floor, ignoring the pain in his back and the bleeding nose. I watch as he towers over me, and I can’t help but feel threatened. Scowling, I point the gun toward the floor to avoid his concern.

“Sell triple by the end of this week. If not, you are off my list. Do you understand?” He nods his head quickly and tries to bow before me with his sore stomach. When he lifts himself up, I cut him off before he speaks. “Also –“ The popping sound of a gunshot resonates throughout the store, soon followed by a screeching scream. The male before me cowers, gazing down at his bloody foot that holds a distinct hole in it now. Before he can fall to the ground, I clutch him by his throat and whisper to him with evil intent.

“What are you falling for? You have product to sell. Get behind the _fucking_ counter.” He starts to bawl, pain enveloping his whole body at this point. I watch as he limps behind the counter, trying to ignore the fact he has a bullet in his foot by now. I watch him lean against the counter with his hands over his head. Blinking, I tuck my gun under my pants and turn around. “I’ll see you next week. Have a nice day.”

My fingers push to open the glass door of the store. The old women outside look up from the sound and smile at me graciously. I nod my head back and hold the door open for them. “Good afternoon. Nice to see you all.” They all sway their heads at me happily and thank me for holding open the door, probably not used to kindness around the poor city. When the last woman enters, I let the door close slowly.

But, before I leave, I dig my fingers under the medium-sized [sticker ](https://ibb.co/NZT5xgR)and tear it away. It leaves a white residue. Crumpling up the paper, I throw it on the ground and continue my journey down the street. Hopefully, another person will gut him before I do.

I visit around five stores, most of them being run well, and collect an abundant amount of sales cash. The cash sits safely in my jacket pocket, conjoined by a thick rubber band. I have to remember to bring someone with me next time. These hauling trips are getting tiring. I sigh loudly and begin my stroll back home.

Not many regular people recognize me. Sure, they have undoubtedly _heard_ of me, but none of them truly know who I am. It helps to be someone easy to hide in the shadows. Though I’ll never publicly admit it, my short stature and attachment to dark clothing leave me with decent benefits. To people who do business with me, I am simply Grey – an idiotic name shortened for _Earl Grey_ , my favorite kind of tea. I didn’t make up the name. I’ll leave the stupid crackheads and gang members to take up that credit.

To put this whole story into simplistic terms, I sell drugs. I spend my weekdays fabricating cocaine, meth, marijuana, and plenty of other pills. Weekends, I package them up myself, giving my workers the job of continuing my unfinished work. They are machinery to keep the house rotating. Nonetheless, they get paid a good amount, though I’m sure they are traumatized by my aggressive and rather heartless personality.

Today is Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday. These days I make my city trips, where I head out to the main areas to check up on some stores that I’ve paid to sell my product. Most of it is cocaine, by “ _Grey_ ” – they say. The name has become a double entendre, as most of the cocaine I pack away, disguised as tea bags, are of Earl Grey descent. I’ve finally made enough money to stop using old _Twinings_ boxes, so my personal boxes are distinct these days.

The city knows. You walk into a store with the vibrant two-winged logo plastered on the front, then you are walking into a drug-affiliated business. The good stuff is in the back, and the normal in the front. Not only that, but the logo brings protection to the store as well. It is no wonder why I get mail after mail from business owners, praying to put them on my list so they don’t have to keep losing profit from robbery. The drug dealership isn’t so bad when you get money out of it too.

Of course, these stores have to abide by my rules once they are on the list. One: keep the entire store immaculate. This probably comes out the most threatening, considering I enjoy cleanliness, especially around my own merchandise. Two: you have to sell a certain amount or you will be kicked off the list. Though, this one has a bit of leniency. In simpler terms, either have my money or not. I don’t care where they get it, but if I don’t have the right amount, the sound of gunshots gets more pleasing.

Three is a bit vaguer, but is more fitting to my taste because it is completely subjective to _me_. Don’t piss me off. Simple. Yet, it is the rule people fail to abide by, because god if people aren’t fucking idiots these days.

As I walk home from the rather busy day, I stroll past the first store I visited. My mind fights back and forth on if I should enter now or later, just to bask in pleasure and success at what I’ve done. In the end, I decide to, because there is nothing more that I love than getting a little bit of revenge.

Upon entering the store, the majority of aisles are empty with few items decorating the rows. Broken bags of chips, bullet casings, blood, liquids, and many other gross items litter the floor. I tut my lips and stroll toward behind the counter. As I do, I view the store owner propped grotesquely against the wall, head hanging down with crimson liquid drooping from his forehead. There is an abundant amount of bullet holes in his chest.

I ignore it and open the cash register. The amount of money in there is disgraceful. I almost feel like turning around and kicking the rotten corpse out of frustration. Sighing, I gaze over at the dead body. “You cheap piece of shit,” I mutter to myself. The urge to maul his body is raging within me. The anger, the _anger_ is always there. Clenching my fist, I give another side glance at the corpse and turn my figure completely around. Just as I begin to pull out a small knife from my pocket, I hear distinct noises coming from the back of the store.

My head immediately turns. I am witnessed to the view of a male attempting to package away as much food as he can in his bookbag. He wears dirty old sneakers, black sweatpants, and a plain white t-shirt. He does not notice my presence at first, considering he is too busy trying to raid the store of all free product. His face is scrunched up while he works. His feet are fast and moving, just like a mouse sneaking to steal crumbs of a finished meal. Scowling, I slam the register closed to gain his attention.

When his head lifts up at the sound, the view of his liquified turquoise eyes shocks me. They are so vibrant, so colorful, that it takes me a few seconds to remember why I wanted his attention. He blinks and stands up straight. His fingers clutch the bookbag possessively and he soon enough throws it over his shoulders. I see him heading to the exit, grabbing a few more things as he does, and he gives me a last glance.

I’ve never seen such bright eyes before. Especially here in this black and white city. The male runs out of the store quickly. The sound of the bell ringing diminishes after a few seconds, unconsciously making me return back to the present. I once more look down at the dead body still dripping blood.

“Looks like a customer saved you again.” I murmur while putting away the knife I had in my hand.

 

“I’m home.” The words flow out my mouth so normally. Immediately, Isabel jumps up from the couch she is sitting on and regards me with joy. She waves her hand and gives a small smile.

“Big Brother! How was your day?” She asks, though I know she doesn’t have the intention of letting me respond anyway. “Me and Far ended up not going to school today, but –“ I open my mouth to reprimand, but she stops me once more. “We did get you a birthday present! Happy Birthday!” She pulls out a rather large box and pushes it into my chest. I grab the bow, but Isabel slaps my hand. “ – don’t open it! Farlan is taking a bath, so wait.”

Rolling my eyes, I stroll over to the love seat and sit down on it carefully. Isabel eventually runs down the hall and slams onto the bathroom door, yelling at her other brother to hurry it up. “Izzy, I am trying to apply my lotion! You know I have eczema!” His voice complains behind the door. Isabel groans stubbornly and crosses her arms.

“Well slap it on there! Levi is home and we don’t have time for your forty-five-minute soak time!”

“Yeah, say that to my skin when it starts peeling like a fucking lizard. I’ll be out in a second.”

“…and you better not have used any of my argan oil conditioner!”

“I didn’t, I swear.”

“If you come out smelling like Morocco I will….uh –“ Before she can finish her threat, Farlan jerks open the bathroom door to show himself dressed in his pajamas. He lifts his arms to show Isabel his form and smell him as well. Isabel hums and rolls her eyes at him once he struts into the living room.

“Happy Birthday!” He says to me with a smile appearing on his face. “The present we got is from both of us. I paid tax, though, so I paid more but that is beside the point.” Isabel elbows him harshly, causing Farlan to yelp at the pain and glare at Isabel ruthlessly. “I did!”

“Open it,” She disregards him. “You’ll love it! You haven’t asked for it once, but I know you’ll love it!” I gaze down at the large present and start to rip it apart. As the box becomes revealed, I get even more confused.

“What is this?” I mutter when I finally reveal the box. Isabel clasped her hands together and points to the wording at the top. I read it. “Diffuser? What is that?”

“It’s supposed to be this device that smokes out oils. Like, you know how you like eucalyptus? Well, if you pour some oil in the cup, it will smoke out the entire room to smell like it!” Isabel essentially squeals at the thought. “It’s so cool! We even got you a bunch of oils to go with it.” Farlan reaches behind the couch to pull out a small plastic bag. He announces the different type of scents.

“Peppermint, cinnamon, patch- uh,” He skips over a word he can’t pronounce. “ – lemon, rosemary, and finally –“ He holds up a specific oil that he knows is one of my favorite. “Eucalyptus.” He hands over the bag after putting the oils back in it. “It cost us about forty dollars all together. It also changes colors!” While my fingers are prying away at the box, I pause at the price.

“Why the hell would you spend so much on me? You two need to start saving up.” I shake my head and flicked my eyes at them. Even with my reprimanding glare, Isabel still smiles longingly at me and begins to help me unbox it.

“We know, we know, but you always seem so exhausted from work.” Finally, the box opens and Isabel grabs the [diffuser](https://ibb.co/7Kkn6LQ). It is relatively large with a strange shape. I know I’ll probably need help figuring out how to use it. “We know you like candles and incense, so we thought this would help calm you down some.” She pauses after a few seconds. “And maybe help you sleep.” Our eyes meet once she makes that claim. I shake my head and grab the device from her hands.

“I get good enough sleep,” I say. Isabel just shrugs her shoulders and grabs the box from out of my lap. “But, thank you.” The smiles that appear on their faces was worth the vulnerability. Isabel jumps off the floor and watches as I analyze the diffuser. Eventually, Farlan sits down on the floor next to me and holds out his hand.

“Here, I’ll put it together.” I hand him the diffuser unconsciously. As he works on it, I decide now to hand them their own present.

“I got you guys something.” Their eyes look up at me in excitement, but also suspicion. Isabel tilts her head at me and watches as I dig in my pocket. Separately, I hold out my hands to them and wait for them to reach out to me. Isabel’s palm delicately unfolds, along with Farlan’s, and a wad of money falls. “This should help pay for future field trips or school activities –“ I reference Isabel, “ – or any instruments, painting supplies, anything you want.” Farlan gets my last glance.

They clutch the money as if sacred. Isabel rolls it around her fingers and pulls the rubber band out. When she sees the amount, her eyes widen even more and she shakes her head. “Big bro, I can’t…this is _a lot_. Where did you even get this from?” I don’t answer her. “This is way more than what I need.”

“I won’t be taking it back. Spend it on something important.” I lift myself off the couch and grab the diffuser off the ground. “I almost had to kill to get it.” Though the humor is thick on my tongue, I know it is somewhat the truth. Though I despised that store owner for fucking me over, I have to thank him for refusing to give money to the people who robbed him. That was probably how he got shot to death.

Most of the money I earn goes toward workers, supplies, boxes, etc. Though I still make a nice profit, it can still get tiring when I have two siblings who go to a private school – in which I pay for. I’ll be damned if they ever had to go to public. I’d rather they not get pulled into my world.

But, when a shop gets taken over, everything is left for grabs. The money in the register was around four thousand dollars. Not the greatest amount, but enough the split and give to the ones who need it the most. I guess that was the store owners last apology before he died. Talk about dying with a clear conscious.

“I’m heading to bed. I’ll be leaving for work early tomorrow, so please make sure to go to school.” I ruffle both of their heads like they are still children. They nod their heads and watch as I stroll to my bedroom. “Merry Christmas.” – are my last words for the night. I lay on my bed, clothes still intact with the knowledge that I probably won’t get any sleep tonight.

I hope the money is well spent. They're young, but I pray they will show kindness to the gold in their hands. Not everyone can have the same.

 

“Well, well, well – if it isn’t Mr. _Grey_! What welcomes you to my humble abode?”

“Cut the shit, Hanji. Here.” I throw three wads of money at them. Hanji catches it with interest and squeals at the amount. Before they open their mouth, I respond accordingly. “It’s so you can get more supplies. I won’t have you working with dirty test tubes and shit. Got it?” Hanji’s jaw drops and they gaze over the money again.

“What if there is extra?” A deceiving smile appears on their face. “I’ve been meaning to buy this back massager –“

“Spend it on whatever. It’s yours.” I roll my eyes at them. “Just make sure you buy the main things.” I turn around from Hanji’s front door and begin walking down her porch steps. “Workers will be here to collect tomorrow. Please be ready this time.”

“What has you so nice this morning? Dare I say you’ve become an angel all of a sudden.” Hanji teases from their front door. Their attire is already suspicious, with a long white trench coat and thick goggles on their face. God, if cops weren’t already told to stay clear of this place, their house would be the number one area to break into.

“Goodbye, Hanji,” I yell as I walk down the sidewalk. Hanji looks up from counting the money and waves their hand. They probably say a few other things, but I disregard it for the sake of keeping the day moving. I fiddle with the last few amounts of cash in my pocket and think if I’m forgetting anything else. Workers got their pay, Hanji got supply funds, stores have their profit – what else?

As I travel down the sidewalk in thought, I pass by a few stores and it immediately hits me. _Michigan_. I forgot to collect from them. _Fuck_. Letting out a groan, I turn back around and start to walk toward the street a few blocks away. God, this place needs to start running the fucking buses regularly. I’m sick of all this walking shit.

Not many people own cars here. The streets are usually clear on them, with only a couple traveling by day by day. Most of them are tourist passing by, not really knowing that they should be staying clear of a place like this. If you do see a car, it is likely it is a store owner or it was stolen by some gang to take apart and sell. Either way, they aren’t normal here. I’ve been meaning to get one, but it is hard to start when most of the shops around sell cheap rip-offs that don’t even have an engine.

So, when I finally walk up to the main convenience store on Michigan, I’m surprised to see an old, light gray [coupé ](https://ibb.co/Gx3MXY4)parked messily on the street. It is an evident anomaly, especially because it is halfway in the road. I scowl at it and open the door to the store, ready to ask the store owner if he bought a piece of shit car over the weekend.

Unfortunately, once I enter the store, I am stuck with the view of the store owner’s son who is playing with a lighter. I scoff and stroll up to the counter, already annoyed that I have to deal with this smart mouth. His elbow is fixed on the counter and cheek is pushed up by his hand. He continuously flickers the lighter, ignoring my presence and finding the fire more interesting. “Hey, fuckface.” I finally say after a few moments of him ignoring me.

He looks up at the sound of my voice. His eyebrows raise and he grins slowly. “Yo, if it isn’t Grey. How the hell r’ ya?” I close my eyes with annoyance when his voice lingers. “Here to collect?”

“Are you fucking high?” I angrily question. He recoils his head and makes an ugly face at my claim. As if it is ridiculous to assume that. “Jean, stop fucking with me. It better not be –“

“I’m just gassed, nothin’ else – I promise. Come on –“ He raises his arms at me and wiggles his body. “Do I look like the type to snort? I’d ruin my hair anyways.” He runs a hand through his two-toned locks. “It’s getting’ long, imagine hangin’ and that shit get in my hair. I’d be pissed. Anyways,” He throws the lighter down on the counter and snaps his fingers. “You here for collection, got you. Imma –“

“Just wait. I’m going to check the back.” Jean scrunches his eyebrows at me in question. I shake my head and walk over to the last aisle. The row containing my product is proudly intact, packaged nicely in rows and showcasing the logo. Either way, I pull open the plastic cover by inserting the key and grab a box from the back. Analyzing it, I make sure it is my product and that none of the fake shit traveled across stores.

I’d rather not lose any more stores today. Besides, though Jean is a complete stoner and dumbass, he is still just a kid. He is only one year older than Isabel and Farlan. It is not my goal to threaten him with a gun to his temple and scar him for life. Hell, I’m sure he has never even _seen_ a gun before.

Yet, I speak too soon. The minute the thought crosses my head, I can hear Jean let out a pretty loud, but chill “ _whoa_.” It wouldn’t have been much of a concern if it was just his voice, but along with it was another one that sounded less comforting.

“Open the register. Now.” It is smooth and cool. It speaks with purpose and an obvious goal. Leaning over slightly from behind the aisle, I see Jean holding his hands up way too high, like a true fucking _idiot_ , and staring down at the gun pointed at him. The person holding it is wearing all black with a hoodie on their head. “The fuck is wrong with you? Open it!” He cocks the gun slightly and pushes it further toward Jean’s face. Jean’s mouth opens and closes before he answers.

“Uh, I need to scan something, dude – it’s like groceries, man, shit.”

“Then do it!” The male’s voice gets raspier, showing distress and impatience. Grabbing the gun attached to my ankle, I pull it out slyly and make my way over to him. The minute he sees me, he doesn’t have the chance to switch positions before I am pointing a thick pistol against his temple.

“Drop the gun,” I growl out. “Or I promise, your brain will be decorated on this entire fuckin’ floor.” I can’t see his face, as the hoodie is still blocking any facial features. However, after a few seconds pass, his face turns and I am met with the scorching blue once more. It’s the male from yesterday. He gazes at me with such hate and disdain that it makes me want to pull the trigger, just to get that rage off his face. But I know with Jean standing right in front of us, that would be a bad idea.

As I said, I’d rather not traumatize any kids as long as I can help it.

I can tell he recognizes me. He drops the gun immediately, obviously initiating defeat. I don’t finish there. I cock the gun, just to mock him, and give a sly grin. “You must be looking to have holes popped in you. The fuck do you think you’re doing, robbing my territory? Are you suicidal?” I dig the gun further into his head. He flinches and looks over at me once more.

God, that color is fucking weird. My clutch on the gun diminishes slightly. Distracted by the colorful irises, I fail to note his hand reaching up and striking his fist on my arm. The gun drops, gaining my attention immediately, and he starts running out of the store. Anger and frustration flow through me and I snatch the gun again. Jean calls my name, telling me to calm down with fear showing in his pitch. Neglecting him, I run after the fucker who decided to place his hands on me.

I openly burst the store door and aim my gun instantly. I don’t even consider the fact he is trying to get into the old coupé outside. His hands are trembling from what I can see. The minute he looks up and sees me, his eyes widen. I pull the trigger with no remorse. No regrets. Just anger.

Pure-blooded anger.

It ends up hitting his thigh and popping a thick vessel, evident by the spewing blood that happens after it hits him. He screams bloody murder and leans down onto the ground, clutching his leg with trembling hands. His palm conceals the wound to prevent the bleeding, but it only ends up causing him more pain by the agitation. I can hear his voice quivering, likely talking to himself and trying to calm himself down. I walk toward him with the goal to cause him even more agony. I wanted to hurl him against the concrete, ram his head onto it, and completely maul him.

I hold the pistol up again and aim for his head. He glances up at me and discovers the empty tunnel of the gun pointed toward him. Scrunching up his eyebrows, he closes his eyes, shielding the vibrant turquoise, and waits for it. I don’t cock the gun this time. My finger presses lightly on the trigger, ready to _kill_ , and then I hear it.

“ _Daddy_!” It is muffled. My eyebrows scrunch up at the sound. I aim the gun another way, just in case, and stroll closer to the male now pushed against the coupé, bleeding pools and lakes. “ _Are you okay? Daddy!_ ” I am a couple of feet away from the male and now I see.

A little girl, probably no older than seven, is banging against windows of the gray coupé. Her eyes are the same odd color, but rimmed with salty, thick tears. Her hair is styled roughly, showing some of it is probably matted and filthy. Her clothes are just the same. Instead of presenting her fear, her face contorts to infuriation when she sees me. It reminds me of the male bleeding to death in front of me. She bangs on the window again, harder this time, and spews words I ignore.

I pocket the gun. The male before me is breathing heavily, still shaking and probably trying to ignore the calls of his daughter for the sake of looking like he is okay. I gaze at the little girl once more and soon enough, run a hand down my face. Fuck. _Fuck_.

So much for not traumatizing a kid for a day.


	2. Lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friendly note: Eren's daughter is not Mikasa. I wanted Mikasa to have another role, so think of his daughter as the exact replica of him.  
> another note: next week I will be uploading a TNF chapter, so if you come from that story, don't worry! I have not forgotten about it!

“Jesus fucking Christ, _Grey_!” The tinge of regret that I feel for shooting this guy diminishes the second Jean comes out the store screaming his lungs out. “Did you just shoot this guy? No, oh my god, this is real –“ He runs up to the male bleeding on the concrete and clutches his clothed leg, which is now drenched in crimson fluid. I squint my eyes at the little girl in the coupé who is still screeching for her father.

“Possibly.”

“Not _possibly_ , you just shot him!” Jean glances down at the male before him in utter confusion. He was a fucking high school student, not a medical doctor. I reach down and seize the male by his jacket. He yelps in pain, causing Jean to glare at me. I overlook it and reach under him for a pair of car keys. The minute I grab them, the male grabs my arm and digs his fingernails into my arm.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” His eyes glimmer with determination. Confusion enters me for a moment before I realize he is talking about his daughter. Scoffing, I snatch my hand away from him, disregarding the slight cuts on my arm from his vice-like grip. “Don’t touch my car.”

“Do you want help or not?” I snarl at him. The stranger thrusts me away from him and tries his best to get up off the concrete. Jean tries to aid him, but the male ends up pushing him away too. “Look –“ Just by sheer luck, I dodge the sharp knife swished in front of me. The male falls once more by the weight of his attack and lands on his good knee. I scowl and look up at Jean, who’s jaw is dropped by now. “Did you just try to fucking _stab_ me?”

“Listen, Grey, I don’t think you have the right to be angry right now,” Jean interrupts with a forced laugh. “You just shot this guy in his leg in front of his daughter. No offense, but I’d be pretty pissed too!” I close my eyes and try to breathe in and out. The male below is now trying to get up again. I reduce the urge to strike him and stick the key in the car. When it opens, the little girl is already backed up into the corner, face scrunched up in vexation and fist balled. “What are you doing?” Jean asks.

“I’m gonna take him to get that bullet out his fuckin’ leg, what do you mean?” I say sarcastically. Jean tilts his head at me. “He has a kid, I can’t just leave him here.” I may be damn near heartless, but I’m not so cold-blooded that I’d leave a kid to see her father bleed out to death. With a car no less? She would be kidnapped in a heartbeat.

“Alright, let me go with you!”

“No, you need to watch the store. Go.”

“I don’t wanna sound like an ass or anything but,” Too late, “I really, really don’t trust you with a kid.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” I blurt out at the accusation. Jean raises his hand in defense and points to the kid who is crossed between terrified and raged at me.

“She is going to start screaming the minute you drive off! I can help calm her down. I babysit sometimes.”

“Why is this feeling like a kidnapping all of a sudden?” I groan out. “And it’s a fuckin’ coupé. There is no room.” Jean sways his head at me and runs up to the door of the store. He locks it, runs back, and starts to get into the back of the car through the front seat. He is muttering to himself, along the lines of ‘please, I can fit’ and ‘this guy is nuts.’ Rolling my eyes, I look down at the male on the ground who suddenly is very still. “Ah, shit.”

“What?” Jean voice shouts from the back of the car. He looks like a giant squeezed into a mini-car, but he is nonetheless in. I bend down and wiggle the stranger’s body, hoping for the first time that he would be alive. I really don’t feel like taking responsibility for another kid. Isabel and Farlan are enough.

“Hey, you shit, wake –“ The knife swishes, again. “What the _fuck_!” I snatch the hand grasping the knife and flip his arm the opposite way. He yells in pain at the uncomfortable feeling, making me push even harder and hoping _maybe_ I’ll break a bone. “You really are suicidal, huh? Stop trying to stab me! I’m trying to help your stupid ass!” He breathes even harder at his point and tries to get himself out of the position. Scowling, I twist his arm even more and watch as his mouth opens to let out a killer scream.

“ _Stop it_!” My head lifts up quickly when I see the little girl from before running toward me. She jumps on me, like a god damn monkey, and begins to hit my head with a rather violent strike. I try my best to keep the male's arm bent, just so he doesn’t try to attack me again, but it becomes hard when a seven-year-old runt starts to punch you in the fucking face.

Eventually, I let go of his arms and snatch the little girl’s hands. She tries to release her hands from my tight grip and begins to cry once more. “Let go! Let go!” I glare up at Jean who is observing the whole scene through the car window. He shrugs his shoulders and references how he is basically trapped in the car. I get up from the concrete and carry the girl into the car. She gets one last hit in when I push her in. Jean captures her, trying to tell her to be calm and that we are going to help her ‘daddy.’

She starts to hit him next. I start to like her at that point. Chuckling, I turn around to grab the male and hurl him in the front seat. The next thing I know, a searing pain flows through my right leg. Looking down, I recognize the guy puncturing my thigh with a bloody knife. I like to consider myself pretty good with pain, but when he instantly tries to turn the knife, my hands act on their own.

My hands grip his throat as I fling him against the coupé. He clenches my wrists and peers up at me with those teal eyes. The throbbing in my leg is getting worse, more annoying at this point, as blood starts to travel down my leg. The stranger smirks at the sight, baring his surprisingly pearly white teeth. I clench his throat tighter.

“An eye for an eye?” He manages to humorously grunt out. I glower at him for a few seconds before knocking his head into the car roughly. He passes out just as quickly. His head hangs low and his entire body leans to the left. I haul his body up with substantial strength and push him into the car. His body starts to fall into the driver’s seat and it almost makes me want to scream.

“Jean, will you fucking help here you useless piece of shit?”

“Ah –“ Jean tries his best to get the little girl’s hand off his hair. “I’m in a bit of a brawl here – ah!” The girl begins to dig her fingers into Jean’s face and causing him to yelp in pain. I run a hand down my face and contemplate just leaving. Sighing, I grip his legs and push them into the car. I slam the door closed afterward and head over to the driver’s seat. From there, I push his body away and get behind the wheel.

“Now listen,” I mutter even though I know the two in the back are not paying attention to me. “I really don’t want to use force, but I have a couple of rules when driving that you two are not following.” The engine comes to life. I immediately roll down the window to the car and grab the gun from my ankle. Pointing it toward the store windows, I fire. The explosion of glass and popping of the gun quiet the two in the back. I see Jean’s jaw drop in the back and the male’s daughter hides her face in Jean’s neck at the loud sound.

A tinge of regret enters me again. I get rid of it quick. “Be _quiet_ while I’m driving.” I fling the gun on the passenger side floor and place the car in drive. “Shall we?”

While driving toward my real home, I can’t help but glance in the back at the little girl. She finally admits defeat and is now crying in the corner, whimpering and trying to control her breathing. Every time Jean tries to comfort her, she would hit him or bite his hand. She is stubborn and scared – all things she has the right to be.

I’m relieved to see Isabel and Farlan actually went to school this morning when I burst through the door of my house with my foot. Carrying this guy is surprisingly easy considering how heavy he looks. I throw him onto the immediate couch and instantly tear open his sweatpants’ leg. Luckily, Jean is late in getting the girl in the house so I don’t have to hear her mouth.

I spoke too soon. Jean walks through the door clutching her hand. She is still crying and begins clawing at his tight grip. At this point, we have to keep her around for safety. She has no choice in the matter. I dig under the couch and pull out a small emergency kit. Opening it, I pull out some alcohol and drench it in the wound. I continue from there in opening the wound to retrieve the bullet.

“Ew, _gross_ dude.” Jean murmurs as he leans over me. I glare up at him.

“Shut the fuck up and go get her something to drink,” I growl. Jean raises his other hand in defense and pulls the girl's hand as he tries to find the kitchen. The house isn’t large at all. There are two bedrooms, a living room, and a small kitchen. The bedrooms are even smaller. Every room is meters away from the next.

Digging into some guys leg to pull a bullet out isn’t what I considered the perfect Sunday. But I had no choice. The clinics around here will charge up the ass, and just by how this guy was robbing my fucking store, I can tell he didn’t have any money. There are no hospitals. Then people wonder why the death rates are so high here.

The bits of bullet I pull out I throw onto the floor. After getting out as much as I could, I pour more alcohol on the wound and bring out the gauzes. Just as I do, Jean wobbles back into the room. “I can’t find the cups.”

“You are completely useless.” I throw the gauzes at him and snatch the girl’s hand from him. “Be useful and wrap his leg. You know how to do that, don’t you?” I mock him sarcastically. Jean rolls his eyes and bends down to wrap the stranger’s leg. I watch him just to make sure he is starting off right before strolling into the kitchen. However, just as I do, I here Jean suddenly grunt and yelp loudly.

I turn my head and there the stranger is, still not giving up the fight. He kicks Jean in the face repeatedly and even seizes his dyed hair in rage. I instantly let go of the girl’s hand. He is shocked when he sees me and doesn’t have the chance to retaliate when I grab his wounded leg and clench it roughly. I can practically feel the throbbing of the open and sore gash. He grunts and tries to pry away.

“Calm the _hell_ down. I just wrapped your pathetic wound and this is how you act?” I clench it even harder and connect eyes with him. His eyebrows scrunch up and he glares at me. “I’m not here to kill you. Consider yourself lucky –“ I’ve been letting people off too much lately, “ – that you have a daughter, or I would have left your ass to bleed to death.”

“I wouldn’t have bled to death from a leg wound, you fucking dwarf.” I am shocked to hear his raspy voice once more. I slam his leg down and stand up from my bent position.

“Excuse me?”

“Okay, okay, let’s all calm down here –“ Jean jumps up from his position on the floor, face crimson and still high off his mind. He waves his hands awkwardly and gestures for me to cease. “We should all Kumbaya. You understand? I know, I know,” Jean references the stranger. “He shot you. I get it. We have _all_ been there. But, we gotta start bein’ a little kinder these days –“

“Jean, stick a sock in it.” I cross my arms over each other and look down at the stranger. He stares right back at me with a glare equivalent. Before any more words can be exchanged, the little girl beside me runs from behind me and scatters over to her father. The male gazes at her longingly before glaring at me once more.

“If I find out you touched her –“

“No one touched that brat. If anything, she gave us the most trouble.” I cock my hip while staring at the girl. She is now hiding behind the edge of the couch, vibrant teal-eyes scrutinizing me with distaste. I avert my eyes from her when I notice a ruby red stain developing on the male’s leg. “Your wound is open again.”

“Yeah, it’s like a maniac didn’t just dig his fuckin’ fingers into it.”

“You have a smart mouth for a tourist,” I claim. “It’ll probably be the thing that gets you killed.” He doesn’t respond. He lifts himself off the couch and looks around the room questioningly. Afterward, he moves to make room for his daughter to sit upon the couch. In his close presence, she starts to relax and that devilish glare of her starts to diminish. “Don’t get too comfortable. I may be nice enough to get the bullet out, but I’m still the one who shot you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means –“ I lean down toward him and inspect his curious face. My gray eyes linger. “ – _get the fuck out_. You are no puppy dog, and even if you were, I don’t take strays. Take your mini-me and hop out of here.”

“That is not a problem.” The stranger instantly tries to get up from the bed. Of course, he is limping, but it doesn’t stop him from grabbing his daughter from her waist and hoisting her up into his arms. She watches him concerningly, aware of his pain. He gives one last stare at me before heading toward the front door. His leg gains more strength, and I’m surprised to see him walk as if he didn’t just get shot.

He leaves quickly. He doesn’t thank me, nor does he curse me out. Our interaction was enough as a goodbye. I sigh when I hear my front door slam closed and look over at Jean. He is staring at me innocently. I scowl. “What?”

“You know…your leg is bleeding really bad right now.” I scrunch up my eyebrows in confusion and look down at my thigh. Blood is flooding through my jeans and staining them. Groaning, I rub my hands down my face.

“I forgot about that.” Jean looks at me like I’m crazy. I ignore it and sit down on the couch. Tearing open my jeans, I look down at the deep wound and shake my head. “This is going to hurt like a bitch in the morning.”

“I’m wondering why it doesn’t hurt like a bitch now.” Jean peers over the couch at my wound. I roll my eyes at him.

“Adrenaline rush.” I sigh out. “This shit turns me on.”

“What the fu –“

“I’m kidding. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

 

Night time follows me like a spirit. No matter how early I wake, I somehow always see the sun falling down and the moon taking its place. I guess the city isn’t meant to have much brightness. The mattress beneath me is rather comfortable, and my room smells potent of eucalyptus. I breathe in the rustic scent mixed with smoke from the incense standing on my nightstand. It’s ashes elegantly fall onto the porcelain glass beneath it. It is relaxing to watch.

Four in the morning hits and I still can’t go to sleep. My eyes wander around the room, picking out every single feature and focusing on it until my lid runs dry. No matter how many times I light incense or spark a candle, it never seems to work. I let out a deep sigh and sit up from my bed.

Isabel and Farlan’s gift sit in the corner of my room, mocking me and waiting for its use. Before I know it, I’m grabbing the box and pulling out the odd device. It has a blue color and is obviously made of glass. I recall what Isabel said about it only needing a few drops of oil for it to work.

It comes with an essential oil attached – lavender. I wiggle the bottle and cross my legs while I sit on the floor. Plugging it in, I hit a few buttons and watch as the device turns on. It shines a viridian hue instantly and eventually transcends to a marine blue. I wait for it to possibly change into more warmer shades, but it never does. It forever switches from green, blue, and purple.

I put about three drops of oil into a large cup under the glass cover. Placing the cover back on, I wait for the magic to work. It looks pretty in the dark.

But nothing happens.

I press a few more buttons before giving up completely. It was a piece of fucking junk, though I’d never tell Isabel and Farlan that. I turn it off and push it into a corner harshly. Standing up, I head over to my bed and lay on it. The incense had already stopped burning at this point.

An evil spirit, night is. Bringing me the duty to sleep, but breathing on my neck the whole night.

 

“Wow, you look like shit.”

“Nice to know.” I roll my eyes at Hanji and stroll toward them. Hanji stands in front of a bubbling metal bucket that I have no concern of learning about. They take their heavy goggles off their face and grin at me. I stare back unknowingly. “What is that smile for?”

“I finally learned how to speed up the process –“ Hanji grins even wider. “ – and I know you tell me not to test my own creations on myself, but _Grey_ , when I tell you this is going to be _phenomenal_.” My hand instantly raises to squeeze the bridge of my nose. Just by looking at Hanji’s figure, I could tell they were still suffering the after-effects of the drug. It’s like no matter how many fucking times I tell them not to do something, they do it anyway.

“Tell me why I should not wring your neck on a pole right now for coming to work under the influence.”

“Because!” Hanji swings their arms up in the sky and lets out an enormous screech. “I am a genius!” They grab my shoulder and pull me to look over the large bucket of soaking leaves. I jerk my arm away from them and glance at the boiling bucket. “I’ve been spending time on creating another solvent for the coca leaves to create a more potent end product. Don’t look at me like that!” I scowl. “You are always talking about how business is getting tight these days, so I’m trying to create something that will make you, sir, a diamond in the industry.” Hanji lets out another burst of laughter. “Here.”

What they hand over is a familiar thick, brick-like block. I raise an eyebrow and grab the package. “Looks the same to me.” Hanji lifts a finger and tuts their lips.

“But come over to the UV light station.” I follow their footsteps to the area where the powdered drug is underneath a vibrant, blue light. Hanji slaps some gloves on before pointing to an odd collection of dust settling on a disk. I scrunch up my eyebrows in confusion and gaze at the different grains. “It left behind this.” It had the same consistency of cocaine, the same smell, and the same movements by how Hanji begins stirring it.

The only difference is that it is a solid black - a complete difference from the pristine white. “It looks burnt, you idiot.”

“It’s not! For some reason with the new solvent I used along with the mixture of other combustion techniques, the crystals left behind an onyx residue.” Hanji continues to stir and run their hands through the fine grains. “You’d expect the rocks to at least have the appearance similar to Augite to produce such dark remnants, but it didn’t! Now I know what you are thinking,” Hanji contorts their face to mock mine. “’ _Hanji, you fuckface, you probably fucked it up. Not all science experiments are legendary_.’” Their face goes back to normal. “Well, this is!”

“Even if this was some kind of breakthrough, no one wants to snort ashes.”

“You’d be surprised.” Hanji ceases in messing with the powder and turns toward me. “But think about it. This opens so many doors for us. If I could potentially manipulate the color of the drug as well as enhance the effects, our sales would increase exponentially. Where in the world have you heard of black cocaine before?” I raise an eyebrow. “ _Exactly_. It doesn’t exist! This is the perfect opportunity to invest in something new that no one knows about. If we develop an even more efficient packaging technique, like the hidden tea bags, we could sell this in more highly populated areas.”

I watch as Hanji grabs a white container near them. They start to pour the powder into the container and shows me the abundant amount. The faint smell of acetone hits me quick. “Think about all those rich motherfuckers who travel miles and miles to visit the stores, just for our merchandise. Imagine being able to send it to them in innocent packages that no one would be suspicious of.”

“We do that now.”

“Not exactly.” Hanji wiggles their finger at me. “The merchandise we have created has already become well known. Our information is starting to travel over cities. I’ve heard from other workers that police are even patrolling stores in the county. That is why I am saying something like this –“ They hold up the container. “ – could be _gold_ to us. Double the price and it may as well be. We just have to figure out what to disguise it as.” Just looking at it, I could already determine what it would be. But I wasn’t convinced just yet.

“I need more information.” The excited look on Hanji’s face diminishes. “I can’t just make an instinctive decision about this. This is still a new development. You made this just last night, didn’t you?” Hanji reluctantly nods their head. “Have you tested this on anyone but yourself?” The same response. I roll my eyes. “For a scientist, you sure are a fucking idiot. Ever heard of a control and experimental group? I damn near need a report for a change like this. Is that enough for you?” A spark ignites in Hanji’s eyes, eager to prove their hypothesis like a mad scientist. Hanji raises their hand in a saluting way and nods their head.

“Okay! I’ll collect data by the end of next weekend. But –“ A grin appears on their face again. “- you are thinking about it, right? What should we hide it as? You shouldn’t undermine your creativity, you are pretty clever.” I scoff and glance down at the onyx powder once more.

“Coffee grains, though they are usually brown,” I tut my lip and tilt my head. “We can make it work. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“…I am so fucking excited!”

“I just said not to get your hopes up, shitty glasses.” I rub my forehead and eyebrows exasperatingly. “Besides you creating nuclear bombs every day, how has everything else been?”

“ _Magnificent_. I ordered some new equipment, just like you said, and even had enough to buy my assistant his own area. He is very thankful for that.” Hanji winks at me discretely and places the container back onto the counter. “Also means he gets paid more, so of course he’d be ecstatic.” I don’t respond back. I watch as Hanji jogs back to another side of their lab, probably checking on developing pills or other drugs. I shift on one foot and gaze at the abundant mixtures around me.

God, if Hanji didn’t get pulled into this world, they’d probably cure cancer by the number of experiments they do daily. “Something wrong?” Hanji voices while they inspect substances in a glass box. I stick my hands in my pockets and lick my lips.

“I need some forget-me-nots.” Hanji lifts their head and turns it slightly. I watch them stare at me in concern for a few seconds before I jerk my head at them irritatingly. “What?”

“FMNs? It’s gotten that bad?”

“Obviously. I just need three.”

“…fine.” Hanji strolls over to a cabinet. I scoff.

“You act like you have a choice.”

“Oh, shush.” They walk over to me and hand me a small baggie with three distinct ivory pills. I snatch it from them and shove it in my pocket. “Don’t become an addict on me now. We need the sane to subdue the insane.” They jokingly say, though I can see concern plastered on their face. “Or so they say.” I cock my hip.

“I should say that to you, crackhead.”

“Please. “ Hanji waves their hand at me as they walk back over to the glass box. “Addiction is for amateurs. I do this for science – “ I could imagine their eyes glowing crimson while they look over the glass box, gazing at the interesting chemicals before them like it was their only love. “ – and _only_ science.” Rolling my eyes for what seems like the thousandth time today, I exit the lab and breathe out my own dismissal.

 _Forget-me-nots_ are Hanji’s version of a roofie. They based it around Rohypnol’s composition, but adding their own natural sedatives. It was originally created just because Hanji has the underlying need to create every pill possible. They ended up giving one to me when I couldn’t sleep properly for about three days. I was knocked out for a total of nine hours, which in my eyes meant the Messiah had landed on Earth.

The only problem is like any other drug – they are highly addictive. Hanji only hands me three every time I ask, which isn’t often, with the hopes I will take one once a week. Of course, I don’t follow their instructions, and when I have a lot of time on my hands, I take them one after another. I once spent a full day snoozed out, dreaming of a peaceful life and wishing things could be like that forever.

 _Forget-me-nots_. I love them.

Isabel and Farlan decide to sleep over a mutual friend’s house in Clayton – the rich part of the town. I’m happy that are making wealthy friends. Leaves me to not worry much. Around twelve in the morning, I light an incense that smells of eucalyptus and swallow the forget-me-not dry.

I cease the urge to swallow them all and hope I never wake up.

Twenty minutes later and I start to get drowsy. My eyes are blinking quickly and I can’t feel the bed below me. I feel numb. My hand runs itself through my silky, black hair as I sigh out loud. Only a few more minutes and I would be okay.

I hear gunshots. Or, that is what it sounds like. My eyes jerk up and I instantly grab my gun from beside me. My movements are sluggish and I almost fall onto the floor. My brain doesn’t register my movements as I walk out of my bedroom. Looking down at the front door in the living room, I squint my eyes and try to focus.

There it is again. Except instead of gunshots, it is actually the sound of someone’s fist pounding on my front door. I pocket the gun and slowly stroll up to it. Instinctively, I unlock it, but I forget to look into the peephole to see who it was. A simple, but stupid fucking mistake.

The door bursts open and pushes me against the wall. A figure runs into the house and slams the front door closed. I start seeing doubles and my eyelids flutter over and over again. A grip pulls me and I follow it. Soon, I find myself back into my bedroom again and I wonder if the whole event was fake. “Get down.” I hear a voice say. I scrunch up my eyebrow and open my eyes. “What r’ you standin’ for? You too, dwarf!”

 _Dwarf_? Who called me that? I hear more voices after that, but in the end, all I can really hear is the sound of my body falling to the floor with a hard thud.

 

My leg is throbbing just as much as my head. I let out a deep groan and try to open my eyes, still feeling drowsy and realizing that this is one of my mini-wake ups. In ten minutes, I’ll be knocked out again, the drug’s effect overcoming me once more. It truly is a fucked-up drug.

Opening up my eyes, I see my room looking hazy. I try to jump up quickly in alarm, but I can hardly move my own fingers. The foggy room is concerning, though I think it is just the drug’s side effects of hallucination. I blink quickly and turn my head around the room.

It is like an early morning dew. If I stare long enough, I imagine myself down on Michigan, walking down an eerie alley with smoke blinding my view. It reminds me of a homemade noir.

“You’re awake.” My head turns slowly and I swear the man before me is wearing an onyx trench coat with a top hat shielding his identity. In my current condition, it humiliates me to say that I feel fear grinding in my gut. He stares down at me cynically. My eyes widen.

 _“I was born when she kissed me –“_ His eyes glimmer and his voice sounds so distinct – so familiar. It reminds me of those films my mother use to watch when I was younger. _“I died when she left me.”_ A knife appears in his hands and my heart pounds even quicker. Where is my gun? Where are my weapons? And why is the smoke getting foggier and foggier? _“I lived a few weeks while she loved me.”_ He tilts his head up and I am met with the view of viridian orbs. _“You like it?”_

When I feel a sudden gust of wind, I close my eyes and swallow a scream. My body is shaking in complete horror. If I would have known I was going to experience this again, I would have never taken those damn pills.

My orbs flutter open a few moments later. The fog dies down and the man is gone. I turn my head to the left of me and see him sitting in the corner, eyes puncturing my soul and top hat shifted. “Who are you?” He questions me, but his voice is back to what it originally was before. “Those men didn’t put a single bullet in your house. Are you some sort of sanctuary?” I scrunch up my eyebrows and glare down at him.

The more I stare, the closer he seems. I can almost smell his breath now. It smells like lavender. “I never took you as a guy to do drugs.” He says after a few moments. “Nor an idiot who didn’t know how to work a diffuser.” I let out a deep sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a little girl propped against the wall covered in a blanket. She is laying right next to the diffuser Isabel and Farlan got me.

Just then, I noticed the machine is spewing smoke, and it soon became my own refuge. There is no fire, nor any smoke. The anxiety filling my stomach sinks. I look back at the man and he still brings me fear, even though I know he hasn’t done anything to me yet.

“She has asthma. This type of shit helps.” He mutters to me. “Is your leg okay? I rewrapped it after you fell. It started bleeding again.”

His voice becomes more and more distorted. “Why do I even try to talk to crackheads like you…” He whispers to himself, even though I can hear him clearly. “Is there one sober motherfucker in this town?”

My eyes become hazy and I know the ten-minute mark has passed. Any second now and I will be faded once more, dreaming of the impossible. I give a small smile. I cannot speak, but in the back of my head, I respond. “I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me –“ I’m cut off by the figure once more.

 _“I lived a few weeks while she loved me…”_ He finishes the quote, and I fall back into slumber content, happy he knew the same film as I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love Eren's character.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: klouee  
> Insta: Iamkloue


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